I've always looked at life like a fight 

ignoring that it might be one  

I might not win  

 

subduing the chaos 

and guiding it into being okay   

like a plant's tendrils  

my life seemed to grow in so many directions 

all at once  

for no reason  

 

living hurts  

trying to grow flowers  

from weeds in the rubble 

the sacred spots of colour  

my only desire 

 

life's not fair 

and it doesn't fight that way 

kicking you when you're already down 

bloodying  the wounds  

reopening the scars  

as you lie on the earth  

tears streaming down 

 

no matter how many times  

I lose 

I keep trying 

even if I'll never be the champion 

have the largest bounty of blooms 

I love the scraggly heather and dandelion    

the wild violets and clover 

my little garden of weeds

 

 they might not be as nice  

or  beautiful 

they might not be as easy  

or desirable 

but they're hard to kill  

 

they pick themselves up   

dust off they're bruised limbs 

smile through broken faces  

fight through the rocky ground  

and reach for the sun   

with hopeful arms

despite it all.